


Just A Jealous Spy

by el3anorrigby



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: Devious Napoleon, Jealous Illya, M/M, Some Humor, Some Plot, some smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-04
Updated: 2018-07-04
Packaged: 2019-06-05 03:35:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15161687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/el3anorrigby/pseuds/el3anorrigby
Summary: “You are being angry for no reason.”“I am not angry.”Of course, Illya wasn’t angry. He was jealous. Jealous beyond incomprehensible reason.





	Just A Jealous Spy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [the_worrying_kind](https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_worrying_kind/gifts).



> My gift for you though I had added a bit of plot to compensate and justify me writing the smut!

Illya didn’t need to look to know that Napoleon was talking, no, not talking, but flirting with Agent Kurt Wilson, the new American operative assigned to UNCLE. Napoleon’s voice was oozing that extra charm and Illya couldn’t help but glare at Wilson who was currently leaning his hands on Napoleon’s desk, laughing at something stupid Napoleon had said. He’d walked into their office earlier wanting to show Napoleon some reports from his current mission, and though it was all business, Illya felt their conversation had wandered into dangerous territory. Wilson’s hand had snaked up Napoleon’s shoulders several times, and in Illya’s eyes, they were all purely gratuitous touches. On one occasion, he even leaned in close, whispered something in Napoleon’s ear that had made him laugh. Illya almost snapped the pencil in his hand when he’d seen it. 

Napoleon, on the other hand, wasn’t entirely oblivious to his partner’s deep scowl from across the room. He knew exactly what he was doing. Illya glaring as though he would like nothing more than to kill the man beside him with some kind of heat-vision if he was Superman, and the fact he was sure he wasn’t imagining any of it, made it all the more fun for Napoleon. Pushing Illya’s buttons was his favourite hobby and he was relishing every second of it. 

“So, what did he want?” Illya asked when Wilson finally left. “I am sure it is nothing for his mission.”

“Why do you say that?” Napoleon asked coolly. “He was clearly sharing some of his mission tactics with me. He was there right in front of you. You saw him.”

Illya scoffed. “Yes, I saw him. And I saw how he was looking at you like…” Illya’s voice trailed off as his inner moralistic judgement overtook his thought process. He bit the insides of his cheeks, not due to a simple nervous habit, but because he was deliberating the words he’d wanted to say.

“Like what, Peril?”

“Like he wants to eat you,” Illya then blurted. 

Napoleon’s goading had done the trick but his laughter annoyed Illya even further. “Maybe he need some lesson to have poker face. Not good trait for a spy like him not to have one.”

“Oh Peril, you’re something else, do you know that?”

Illya turned slightly red at Napoleon’s words. He was either mocking him or throwing him a compliment. And was he doing it on purpose, just to distract him from their argument? Illya took in a breath, ready to let go of the matter because he knew it could go on forever, but his jealousy instantly returned later when he walked over to his partner only to see Wilson’s photographs on Napoleon’s desk. 

The man was handsome, no doubt, dark haired just like Napoleon, though slightly of a smaller built. In the photograph, his hair was slicked back to perfection and the clothes he was wearing was too tight fitting for Illya’s liking. In fact, there was nothing to like at all about that man.

“Why is he dressed like this? And why did he leave pictures with you?”

Illya was glowering by Napoleon’s desk. Worried he might destroy the photographs in his hand, Napoleon quickly snatched it off of him and placed it carefully inside Wilson’s file on his desk once again. 

“He’s going undercover for a mission. Honeypot. Asked me for some tips,” Napoleon explained. 

“So his cover is a male prostitute?”

Napoleon gawked at Illya, then shook his head. “Is this what you think of me when I go in as honeypot for a mission?”

“No,” Illya mumbled. His jealousy was dangerously getting out of control. But he could not help himself. 

“Did he ask for your help on how to seduce his mark?”

Napoleon stifled a sigh. “There was a similar assignment of ours to his, the one we had in Milan a few months ago. He wanted to eliminate the possibility of this mission being purported by the same culprit."

Napoleon’s logic made sense. But, as it had happened many times in the past when they’re arguing, logic sailed right over Illya’s pretty little head as he decided to focus on entirely irrelevant subject matter. And the matter resurfaced once again minutes later when Illya saw Napoleon reexamining the files agent Wilson had given him. 

“Why are you still staring at pictures of the man dressed like a male prostitute?"

Napoleon looked up at Illya. Yes, the man’s pictures were in his hand but it didn’t mean Napoleon liked looking at them! He was only studying it for the case, of how Wilson should be dressed when meeting his mark, just like how they had to dress Gaby back in Rome. Suddenly thinking about how that had gone made Napoleon groan. _‘It doesn’t have to match!’_ Illya had argued much to Napoleon’s consternation. The Russian really was impossible! But despite it all, it made Napoleon love him even more.

“You are being angry for no reason.”

“I am not angry.”

Of course, Illya wasn’t angry. He was jealous. Jealous beyond incomprehensible reason. 

Trying to smoothen the situation, Napoleon started to defend himself by pointing out that he was only trying to help Wilson. But when Illya didn’t want to relent, Napoleon changed his plan entirely. Something devious crept into his mind. Whenever Illya let jealousy control him, the sex between them would be several degrees of incredible. Napoleon was completely aware of the fact that this made no sense, much like how Illya was behaving at the moment. But he was willing to work it to his advantage.

“You know, you are right,” Napoleon muttered, sighing in mock defeat as he leaned forward on his desk, closed the file in his hands before putting it inside his desk drawer. He later stared at Illya who had already returned to his seat, inflicting just enough of the ‘playboy Napoleon’ into his voice to have the effect he was hoping for. 

“Those photographs of Wilson must have gotten me somewhat...distracted.”

“Distracted?”

Illya didn’t look happy. He’d taken the bait. “What do you mean?”

“Wilson’s quite a charm, I’ve to admit. And you have to agree that he’d make a perfect honeypot. You saw his pictures. You saw _him_.”

And that was the final straw for Illya. Before Napoleon knew anything, Illya stood up at once, his sudden movement knocking his chair back against the floor with a loud crash. And then he was on Napoleon in a matter of seconds, and as he was dragged out of the office, Napoleon had to concede that Illya’s jealousy far outweighed the bad in his case. 

This was certainly true because once they got home, Illya manhadled him to his bed and in no time at all they were both naked with Napoleon being pinned underneath the heaving Russian.

“So. You were...distracted?”

Illya looked all kinds of sexy when he was mad. Napoleon loved it though he’s got his work cut out for him because now he needed to calm the Russian. 

“You do realise I was only pulling your leg?”

Hearing that, Illya immediately released one of Napoleon’s wrists from his hold and surprised the American when he palmed the man where it mattered. The act had Napoleon gasping.

“Honestly, you’ve got nothing on Wilson! I’ve eyes only for you, Peril,” he moaned when Illya only breathed and did nothing for the longest time after that, leaving his fingers _there_ just to grip him, hard enough to make him squirm but not nearly enough like he really wanted. Jealous as he was, Illya’s got enormous self control. And this drove Napoleon mad.

“Illya, this is unfair, come on!”

“And it is fair for you to do what you did?”

Napoleon pouted, batting his eyelashes unashamedly. “I’m sorry?”

If he had his way, Illya would punish the man further. But damn, Napoleon was really good at breaking his defenses. Taking pity on him, Illya finally leaned down and kissed him, the act more of a peck on the lips rather than a full blown kiss. But truthfully it was just a predecessor to him raining kisses down Napoleon’s neck and throat, marking that hot skin with little bites and nibbles. Illya wanted to make Napoleon pay for what he’d done earlier. He wanted him to writhe underneath him, and writhed he did.

Illya’s hands travelled the length of Napoleon’s body, setting off tiny fires wherever they touched him. And his mouth, not to be outdone, tasted the slightly salty skin as it worked down and across Napoleon’s chest, pausing for a moment at each nipple to suck it.

“You imagine Wilson’s mouth on you when I do this?” Illya murmured as he worked on the sensitive buds and Napoleon could only shake his head, moaned a breathless _no._

His head was tossed back as his back arched and came off the bed at Illya’s teasings. It was like an offering to Illya and this made Illya paid extra attention to his nipples. He licked, sucked, and hummed around it, and Napoleon couldn’t help but let out breathy little sighs that got trapped in his throat. His hands uselessly gripped the sheets, needing something to hold on to.

Every time some sort of noise came from Napoleon’s mouth, Illya felt a jolt of pleasure running through his own body. Nobody can elicit those sounds from Napoleon but him. Hungry for more, Illya dove down further, down his hard abdomen, his navel, swirling his tongue in and around it, and then down to Napoleon’s cock, and soon his own hand was stroking that length at the same pace he was bobbing his head. He wanted to drive Napoleon crazy. He wanted the man to go out of his mind. As a testament for Illya’s efforts, Napoleon was soon muttering incoherent words, his fingers finding their way through Illya’s hair. Napoleon whimpered as his hips jerked. Illya, unsatisfied, wanting more of a reaction, applied a bit more suction and he then relished in the way Napoleon was melting spectacularly beneath him. And with the way he was moving it wouldn’t be long until …

_Ohhh..._

The sound of that delicious moan echoing around his room was everything. Napoleon started to move his hips on instinct. And from how far gone Napoleon sounded, Illya doubted he was even aware of what he was doing. His movements were getting faster and harder. He must be getting close. Illya glanced up from where he was and saw Napoleon had shifted to lean up on his elbows. He was watching the way his length was disappearing into Illya’s mouth. He let out another strangled moan before his head lolled back again, his throat bared, the tendons of his neck stretching.

“Oh god, Illya…”

His cock twitched and was leaking precum excessively in Illya’s mouth. His chest heaved as he struggled to breathe and it was in that moment that Illya pulled off from him. Napoleon let out a desperate cry and he continued to thrust his hips upwards, waiting for Illya’s mouth to come back.

For Illya to taste him again.

But Illya did nothing.

“Peril…!”

“Serves you right, Cowboy,” Illya moved up to get a better view of Napoleon’s wrecked state. “Still distracted?”

“Illya, please!” was all Napoleon could say, as he desperately steadied his breathing. He was there, right at the edge and Illya had stopped. His cock was still hard between his legs, and his body, covered in a sheen of sweat, was arched and he was keening like he was coming, and it was the hottest sight Illya had ever seen. Knowing he had utter control of the situation, Illya only smiled fondly at his partner before starting to run his hands all over him again. Starting from his abdomen, one large hand pawed up the sweaty skin, pawed him all over, and Napoleon moaned and leaned into it, especially when Illya got to his trembling thighs. He spreaded it in earnest, licked the tender skin there over and over while kneading it, and Napoleon lost it.

“Peril,” he warned. “Don’t you dare stop this time.”

Napoleon’s body rose up, straining against Illya’s hold despite him holding him down. He moaned when that mouth, that tongue, worked its way down the curve of one leg, pausing briefly to nip the tenderness behind one knee before it started back up again.

Illya’s touches were maddening.

His fingertip traced a circle around Napoleon’s most intimate place, then dipped lower and lower between creamy cheeks before sliding inside, against the resistance of that tight ring of muscle.

_"Nhhh!”_

Two fingers, now, and Napoleon’s tight opening was being gently stretched. Before Napoleon could comprehend it, the tip of Illya’s tongue was tracing the most exciting of patterns in a spot which was already moist from all the relentless teasing, while insistent fingers continued to stroke, to stretch. To touch.

Napoleon bucked uncontrollably at each rub on his prostate, needing release, his groin straining upwards seeking a touch, any touch.

Illya understood Napoleon was desperate but he so loved doing this to him. His slight stubble of a beard was abrading the sensitive skin of Napoleon’s inner thighs and that body was quivering, blue eyes dark with desire looking down to meet those other blue eyes dark with lust.

“I want to see you come without me touching you,” Illya commanded. Napoleon was now so responsive to any kind of stimulation, Illya wouldn’t be surprised if he could.

And Illya demanded it from his lover. It was his punshment.

“Understand?”

“Make me,” Napoleon challenged.

Always the competitive one, Illya nodded then wickedly smiled. Wasting no time, he started to work on him and Napoleon moaned and gasped at the onslaught, letting Illya do anything that he wanted with him. And Illya was determined to make Napoleon come over and over until he couldn’t remember anyone or anything but his lips and tongue on his, finding all of his special spots, settling Napoleon for a long night full of glorious torment.

**Author's Note:**

> RL will get in the way so I’ll resort to posting little drabbles/ficlets on tumblr though I hope to finish my wip fic soon. In the meantime, I hope you’ll enjoy this little fic! Thanking you in advance as always! <3


End file.
